


Ordinary Dream

by Goddess_Under_The_Cupboard



Series: Ship of Fools [4]
Category: Political RPF - Russian 21st c.
Genre: Dima appearing as an apparition briefly, Hanahaki AU, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, also remember that cat in Flower Rain Chapter 1?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_Under_The_Cupboard/pseuds/Goddess_Under_The_Cupboard
Summary: After receiving the executive order for his resignation, Vladislav Yuryevich decided to visit an old friend.
Relationships: Dmitry Medvedev/Vladimir Putin
Series: Ship of Fools [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650820
Comments: 15
Kudos: 10





	Ordinary Dream

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I did say that I am going to write the Sveta-centric parts of Meet Me on the Equinox and Flower Rain. Slava insists that I should wrap up his Ship of Fools series first because it's short. 
> 
> Here's the link to that harsh decree:  
> http://kremlin.ru/events/president/news/page/4
> 
> Also, the link that Dima and Sveta like HP:  
> http://www.mosnews.com/culture/2009/04/03/harrypotter/
> 
> Inspiration for today's one-shot is: 
> 
> Ordinary Dream - Yuki Kajiura [Rekishi Hiwa Historia OST]  
> YT: https://youtu.be/LqXdQRv14yE
> 
> Also flower meanings for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Crocus: Gifting someone this flower is a symbol of being glad you met this person or seeing this person. [https://flowermeanings.org/crocus-flower-meaning/]
> 
> 2\. Daffodils: Daffodils represent forgiveness, new beginnings and a rebirth. They also represent happiness and are meant to be given in a bouquet, as giving a single daffodil denotes misfortune. To tell someone "I'm sorry" or "Please forgive me," give them a bouquet of daffodils. In doing so, you are telling them that you wish to put away the past and begin a new season that is full of happiness. [https://www.gardenguides.com/12403595-flowers-that-mean-forgiveness.html]
> 
> 3\. Chrysanthemums: Unlike other flowers, the meaning behind chrysanthemums varies globally. In America and Europe, the meanings focus on sympathy and honour. The colour plays a role in the meaning as well. Red symbolizes love, while white symbolizes innocence. [https://www.everplans.com/articles/the-meaning-behind-8-different-types-of-popular-funeral-flowers]
> 
> 4\. Orange Lilies: Lilies are considered a beautiful, popular flower but the orange variations actually symbolize hatred, pride, and disdain. [ https://www.serenataflowers.com/pollennation/10-flowers-never-give-anyone/]
> 
> The inspiration for the gravesite:  
> http://www.asergeev.com/pictures/archives/compress/2013/1247/05.htm

**_The Executive Order relieves Vladislav Yuryevich Surkov of his duties as Aide to the President of the Russian Federation.  
_ ** **_This decree shall come into force from the day it has been signed._ **

_That's harsh._

There's a difference between resignations and sackings in Russia. When the president asks you to resign, he'll demote you to a position with less political influence. However, if you do get sacked, it's the death of your political career, and it is up to the president if he wishes to revive that or not. Sometimes a sacking is intertwined with a prison sentence if you offended his silovikis. Bureaucrats in this country do not have any dignity, and it's a luxury here; Vladimir Vladimirovich controls their lives after all.

This decree made it sound that he got sacked, but he did resign. His resignation circulated on the last week of January, however, the president's press secretary has denied it, and now it has come to this. He came to his office expecting a typical working day until he saw a white folder with the state emblem that usually comes from the presidential chancellery. He sat down, opened it and read the shortest edict that he received throughout his whole career as a civil servant.

Vladislav Yuryevich sighed as picked up the decree, tore it into pieces and threw it in the trash can. Natalya Ivanovna reported that the Kremlin website posted the executive order for his dismissal. He cannot believe this fuckery that they decided to waste their time and bandwidth for mere bits of data. He knew that for the past decade that sackings are not or rarely displayed on the site. Perhaps, it could only mean one thing: the president is displeased with him.

Displeased is an understatement: Vladimir Vladimirovich harbour a deep-seated hatred, anger and envy towards him. He's fired not because of a changing stance in Ukraine but due to his involvement in concealing the former prime minister's illness. He should be thankful that what he got is a slap in the wrist, the president exacting his retribution by hurting his ego through posting his sacking. He knew that his "transgressions" warrants death in the man's eyes.

He understood the president's loathing towards him; Dmitry Anatolyevich spent most of his living moments with him. Aside from that, the former prime minister considered him as one of the people that genuinely cared for him.

He's about to throw the folder that contained the edict but stopped when he saw another piece of paper bearing the president's thin handwriting.

_Where did you bury him?_

He glanced at the direction of the camera, and a wicked smile spread on his lips. Despite not being in his Kremlin office, he knew that the president still watches his every move. He tore the notes to shreds and flipped a finger to the camera. The president should learn some decency by respecting Dima's wishes, but then virtue isn't something that they teach in the KGB.

Despite careful planning, the president managed to gatecrash the former prime minister's wake by tapping his phone calls. Vladimir Vladimirovich, along with his entourage of guards disrupted the solemn ceremony. He, Natsya, and Sveta were livid as the presidential guards restrained them, but he managed to wiggle his way out when he told the president that Dima entrusted a letter to him in case he showed up at the funeral. He barely pulled the letter out of his coat pocket when the president impatiently snatched it from him. He did not know the contents of the message, but it did evoke emotional stimuli from the usually stoic man.

He clearly remembers the troubled and conflicted look at Vladimir's face as he gently placed his shaking hand on Dima's folded one while the other one is crushing the letter tightly on its unforgiving grip. He saw that icy gaze is glistening or maybe it's the candlelight that gave such a sheen to the man's eyes. Time seems to still as the president stares at the soft peaceful smile on Dima's gaunt face, he could see the president's hand moving hesitantly and started to trail it on his friend's wispy, brown locks. Dima often tells him that the president is fond of running his hand through or ruffling his hair. The tender gesture lasted for half an hour until Vladimir Vladimirovich reluctantly ceased his movement, plucked a red spider lily that adorned the former prime minister's coffin and left.

Vladimir Vladimirovich and Dmitry Anatolyevich, the rulers in tandem, parted on a wrong note. The president gave the dying Dmitry Anatolyevich hope when he finally shuns salvation. However, that hope gave Dima a peaceful passing, that somehow he managed to peek through the frozen walls that hid the president's heart.

It's been two weeks since Dima's passing, and numerous forums on the internet were clamouring that they were right all along, that the former prime minister does have an illness and that the one that slew the man is his resentment. Jokes about Dima's death filled every nook and cranny of the Russian internet, and he knew that if the former prime minister were to see it, he'll only shrug it off and bear it with that overly polite smile on his face; he's used to being the laughing stock.

As for him, throughout those two weeks, he found himself glancing at the door now and then, expecting to hear the soft knocks on his office door that heralds Dima's arrival. He no longer has any unfinished work; he might as well leave this place and visit Dima instead. He pushes a button on the intercom and told his secretary to come inside. The young woman hesitantly followed his command, and he could see that she's afraid of him. It was his fault; he threw some hissy fits in the past few weeks. He smiled gently, and this seems to put her at ease.

"Natalya Ivanova, can you kindly pack up my things for me?" he gestured to his family photos as he stood up and started to head towards the door.

"What about the books, sir?" she asked as she started to gather the photographs littering his desk.

He settled his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at her, "Leave it there. Maybe my successor will enjoy reading them."

She nodded, and he nods back in return. He opened the door and quickly went out of the office. He glanced at his watch and saw that it's 10 am, still early. His car is already waiting for him; he went inside. His driver looks at him, waiting for his instruction.

"To the airport, please," he told the driver.

The man gave a brief nod and started to speed away from the Kremlin.

He's never been a spontaneous person; he's someone that schemes and manoeuvres behind the scenes. That is how he moulded the Russian political landscape into his post-modernist theatre. Dazzling and confusing everyone act after act, hiding the true nature of his country within this carefully built mask. Vladislav Yuryevich knows that he is humouring his whims.

As he strode inside the airport, he could feel the speculation on the people's gaze. He can see that they are wondering whether or not he's here for a last-ditch effort to save his job as a presidential aide by going to the self-proclaimed people's republic in Ukraine, to broker a deal perhaps or to sow more discord. No, he's not here for that. Vladislav could feel the surprise in the air when he told the lady in the check-in counter that he's going to St. Petersburg.

He paid no mind to the ogling, but it is starting to get on his nerves as he boards the plane and takes his place on the economy class. Yes, it's not every day that Vladislav Yuryevich Surkov graces your flight with his presence. He grumbled on his seat, and a flight attendant approached him to ask if everything's fine.

"Just give me two empty paper cups." he snapped, and the attendant hurriedly fetched the items and gave it to him.

He almost screamed in relief when the plane landed on Pulkovo airport. He hastily went out of the aircraft and made a beeline to the duty-free store and bought the "best" wine they have. He placed the paper cups along with the wine on the plastic bag given to him and went out of the airport and hailed a cab. He asked the driver to make a small detour to a flower shop, and he picked out a bouquet of crocus flower for Dima.

The cemetery where Dima lies is in the outskirts of the city; the car zooms past the pine forest, and the rugged roads are making it a little inaccessible. He finally saw the small chapel, and he asked the driver if he could wait for him. It was an old military cemetery situated in the hills, and the grave that Vladislav is visiting is in the recesses of this pine hill forest. The cloudy weather gave the place a dark atmosphere. It is eerily quiet that the only thing that he can hear is the gravel crunching beneath his feet and the whistling wind as he walks through the downtrodden path and passing by old and worn out graves. He lit up when he sees the catnip bush up ahead, and he hastened his pace.

_However, he stopped dead on his tracks..._

Kittens are frolicking on the grave; Dima has requested that they should plant catnip so that the cats will go to his grave and provide him company; he's rather fond of cats. But the frolicking kittens is not the cause of his shock, sitting serenely amongst them is Dmitry Anatolyevich in his blue suit. A soft smile on his lips as he stroked a fawn-coloured cat that rests on his lap, the cat's eyes possesses the same shade as the president's eyes. Dima lifted his head as if he heard him approaching and beamed up at him, sapphire blue eyes sparkling in joy and motioned for him to come closer.

Vladislav blinked, and the image vanished. He shook his head; he didn't even have a drop of wine, yet, and he's already hallucinating. He resumes his strolling and the kittens dispersed as they saw him. When autumn comes, the flower that once wreaked havoc on Dima's body will bloom out of his grave to signal its arrival, and it would deter the cats from visiting the tomb due to its poisonous nature.

With a sigh, he sat on the ground and brought the wine and paper cup out of the plastic bag and puts down the bouquet of crocus in the grave. He unscrewed the bottle cap from the wine bottle and poured it on the paper cups. He placed one near the headstone and let out a snort as he read the epitaph.

_Here lies Dima: A free bear._

He knew that his friend lifted it from the Harry Potter series; he saw him reading those accursed books. He told him that he could write him a better epitaph, but it was three votes against one. Sveta agreed to it because she is another fan of the book and Natsya wholeheartedly added that people would only think that a beloved circus bear lies in this grave rather than a former president and prime minister.

"I remembered that I owe you wine. I am sorry that the wine is subpar and it is in a paper cup instead of a wine glass." Vladislav's mind painted a picture of Dima's face scrunching up in disgust.

He grabbed his paper cup and made a toast towards the grave, he took a sip and winced as the wine left an unpleasant burn in his throat. He set the cup down and took a deep breath.

"I came here to tell you that the president fired me today. You're the first person that came to my mind; we are both marionettes, and you, of all people, understood what it's like to be discarded," he chuckled madly but ceased when he heard footsteps behind him.

He heaved a sigh of exasperation and intoned "Don't just skulk there, Vladimir Vladimirovich."

Vladislav turned around and saw the president's face pinched in distaste as he took in the sight of Dima's resting place. He doesn't have the energy to push the man away from the grave; it's no use he'll drop by even when he's gone. He knew that the president also grieves Dima's passing, and he feels that he cannot resent the man for disrespecting his friend's wishes once again. He often sees the man glancing at his left side during state council meetings and that emotionless gaze filling with disappointment when the one that he expects to be there is not present.

His eyebrow rose as he saw the bouquet in the man's hand; the arrangement is a hot mess of an orange lily, daffodils and white chrysanthemums. Vladimir ignored him and placed the bouquet on Dima's grave and sat down beside him. An uncomfortable silence settled between them that is until Vladislav decided that he had enough.

"Quite fitting, isn't it? I told him that I could write a better epitaph for him, but he wants it to look like a grave of a beloved circus bear. But it's not that far off from reality." he smirked then continued looking intently at the orange lily "What do you hate? Dima himself or his pride?"

"His pride," the president muttered, and in the corner of his eye, Vladislav saw that there's an unknown emotion flitting through that icy gaze.

"You have known him for two decades, and yet it seems like you do not know him at all. It wasn't in his nature to beg; he follows your every command without question served with that annoyingly polite smile of his."

Silence, once again, has graced them with her presence. He picked up his forgotten paper cup of wine and offered it to the president who declined it with an irritated flick of his hand. He shrugged and chugged down the contents and poured himself another cup of wine.

Vladimir cleared his throat and asked, "How did he-"

"I was not present when he passed." He quietly cut the president off as he took a sip of wine.

Vladimir purses his lips as he continues to stare at the grave. Vladislav could feel the anger radiating from the man; he has a hunch that the president must be thinking that Dima does not deserve such a shabby resting place.

"I tried to dissuade him from choosing this cemetery, but he insisted. Dima said that he wants to be with his first cat which he buried in this spot. He named it-"

"Putka," they said in unison, and Vladislav rolled his eyes and snickered. The former presidential aide saw a sad smile on the president's thin lips.

"So, you were listening to our conversations."

He emptied his cup and stood up. Vladislav Yuryevich started to brush away the dirt from his pants.

"I'll take my leave now, Vladimir Vladimirovich." he bid his goodbye to the president, and he rarely saw gratitude on those eyes. He gave the man an understanding smile before he turned around and started his trek back to the cemetery gates.

_He left the bear with his master._

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!  
> This concludes the Ship of Fools series.  
> I'll try to stick to this update schedule, I promise.  
> Next week: Chapter 2 of Flower Rain and Meet Me on the Equinox.
> 
> Also, I am having doubts if I should continue the story or not. But this is normal, I'll pick up the pen once again and write. Hopefully, it's not a long spell...because I really want to finish this story too :(
> 
> I saw this from my drafts kinda want to use this line on a new fic but I need suggestions:  
> "A jail's a fine place; it's where Vladimir Vladimirovich and I have trysts. It's where the president reminds me I am his marionette."


End file.
